


dyed with your colors

by Kurokoo



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Attempt at Humor, F/F, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Pick-Up Lines, Pining Ymir, Valentine's Day, and by that i mean forcefully in denial of ymir's feelings for her, oblivious historia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:41:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurokoo/pseuds/Kurokoo
Summary: “I like you,” she declared before she could lose her nerve.Historia smiled back gaily. “I like you too. Which are you taking today, the subway or the bus?”(Or: A high school AU where Ymir is the pining idiot to Historia’s oblivious dumbass.)
Relationships: Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Reiner Braun/Bertolt Hoover
Comments: 5
Kudos: 107





	dyed with your colors

**Author's Note:**

> there isn't enough yumikuri appreciation that isn't straight up smut so here
> 
> title from [heart forecast (eve)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dJf4wCdLU18)

Ymir always knew that Historia was dense as hell, but she had honestly expected better.

She thought maybe after Historia read the letter Ymir had sat down and written for Valentine’s Day, she would gain more of an understanding of the romantic nature of Ymir’s feelings, but no. She had just smiled at the blood-red roses and said that Ymir didn’t need to do that for her, oh you’re such a good friend, Ymir, I’m grateful you thought to do that for me. _You’re such a good friend._ According to Historia, good friends got each other bouquets of roses on Valentine’s Day.

What else did Historia need? The website Ymir checked (third of its kind) had guaranteed she’d get girls falling head over heels for her if she followed their instructions. She only needed to charm one girl, and she had followed every direction to the letter.

This she all grumbled out loud, rapid-fire, to her two friends. They exchanged skeptical looks, and finally one spoke up.

“Are you sure my cologne didn’t work? It always works.”

She wheeled around. “Shut the hell up, Reiner. I don’t see _you_ with a boyfriend right now.”

Reiner shook his head slowly in mock sympathy. Or maybe real sympathy, she could never tell. “It works on girls, and you tried it on a girl.”

She crossed her arms. “Maybe it’s defective.”

He mirrored her. “Maybe you’re defective.”

“Calm down,” Bertholdt interjected, like he could physically hear her blood pressure rising. “Maybe you’re both defective.”

Ymir whirled to face him. “I’m not defective!” He ducked his head and took the largest bite possible out of his greasy cafeteria burger, his reply lost in the grinding of his molars. Disgusted, Ymir turned back to Reiner and launched into her tirade. “I mean, do you know what face she made when she read, ‘I want to be with you forever’?”

“I assume a happy one.”

“No! Yes! She looked me in the eyes, very seriously, and have I ever talked about her eyes before? Because she literally looks like she wears circle lenses all the time. They’re so big and blue, like your dick…”

Reiner grimaced and closed his eyes, massaging his ears like that might close them. “Please stop.”

“…I bet they’d look even more exquisite under the stars. Her eyes, not your dick. Have I told you about that particular fantasy?”

“Loads of times,” he said tiredly, leaning against the wall. “What do you want me to do about it?”

She sighed and sat down on the bench next to Bertholdt, who discreetly scooted away. “Get me a box of chocolates to give her? Let me wear your tie so that I can loosen it alluringly later? Kidnap and bring her to Snowdonia for me? I don’t know.”

“Do you even know how to tie a tie?”

Ymir paused. That was a good point. “Could you teach me? Reiner, how do you be sexy?”

Behind her, Bertholdt spewed out a mouthful of chocolate milk and coughed into his napkin. “Oh my god.”

“But you’re a girl. Shouldn’t you ask what I find sexy?”

She scowled. “No, you have such awful taste. And I’m pretty sure sexiness is unisex.”

“Sure, then.”

“I don’t want to see this,” wailed Bertholdt. “Reiner, where’s your better judgement?”

“I lost it this morning while Ymir was talking about how aesthetic Historia’s last name is.”

Bertholdt laughed then, a quick, disbelieving snort. “What, do you want it?”

“Maybe.” She leapt up. “Bertholdt, you’re a genius! That can be another pickup line. ‘I really like your last name, could I have it?’ or something like that.”

He frowned. “I think you should just tell her. Like, ‘I like you, please go out with me’ kind of thing.”

“What? Then what would all my hard work have been for? I spent forty minutes working for this last night.”

“She has a list,” Reiner put in as Ymir ran for her backpack. “I helped make it.”

“You’ve gone to the dark side,” he said disapprovingly.

“Yeah, well.” He pulled him in for a chocolate milk-flavored kiss. Bertholdt brushed him off, embarrassed but pleased. “I felt bad that the cologne only worked for me.”

~~~

Ymir was late for her tutoring session.

Now, make no mistake. It wasn’t that she was bad at pre-calculus or anything — on the contrary, it was considered an advanced class for a junior like her. So, you may be wondering, why was Ymir in tutoring?

Because she cared about her grades, obviously. Ymir was nothing if not an upstanding citizen who wanted to do her best in school, go to a good university, and get a nice little soul-crushing 40-hour work week office job like her parents. And it had certainly nothing to do with a certain blonde, blue-eyed, fairy-tale-esque girl who tutored her fellow juniors or anything. Nothing at all.

And the bit of drool that managed to escape her lips before she snapped back to attention? That had nothing to do with it, either. She just wasn’t used to not wearing her retainers, obviously. She didn’t listen much when her dentist spoke anyway, so this was probably just some obscure side effect.

“Ymir!” Historia called brightly upon noticing her. “Hi.”

“Hey.” She dumped her bag on the chair and pulled it out with a heavy scrape against the floor, earning a glare from the librarian. “Actually, before we start…”

“I heard you got a seventy-five on your last test,” she interrupted. “That’s better, but I expect you to score higher next time. A C? I think with your brains you should at least be earning a B, if not a B+. Of course, I’m glad you did better this time, but — ”

Ymir closed her mouth and let herself get lectured for the next fifty minutes. (Closed mouth = no drool. Work smarter, not harder.) To be honest, she had been gunning for a C+; how was she supposed to know she would actually get a question wrong and not because she had calculated it that way?

By the time the chiding and scolding and instructing had died down, Ymir’s self-esteem was too wounded to do the whole flirting thing and begged off. And it was fine, you know? Study hall was over, but she still had lunch and the whole afternoon after class. It was Valentine’s Day. This was destiny.

Ymir nodded and bid Historia goodbye before fourth period started, determinedly marching back to her locker. The quarterly notes check her math teacher did had been deemed unimportant, and this notebook, too, had been filled with pickup lines.

Okay, maybe she had a bit of a problem.

~~~

“Stop biting your nails,” instructed Reiner. “I don’t think anyone finds that sexy.”

“I think you’re wrong,” she challenged, but did as he said. “And besides, I won’t be doing that while I hit on her. It’s just a habit.”

“A nervous one, and you’ll be nervous while you flirt. Listen, I really don’t think the pickup lines will work.”

Ymir laughed in his face. “Of course they’ll work. Have you seen them? I could get even you to fall for me with them.”

“Of course I’ve seen them, I helped you write them. And no, you couldn’t. Historia won’t respond to something like that either.” Reiner held her gaze, ignoring passing students who were probably wondering why this six-foot-and-then-some Bigfoot-looking kid was staring down a five-seven girl (who was not on the track team) wearing a track team shirt in the theatre room. “I say you should just confess.”

“Exactly,” Bertholdt chimed in. “Isn’t that what I’ve been saying from the start? Just say it clearly.”

“No!” Ymir pulled at her hair and paced. “What if she rejects me?”

Reiner, uselessly, tried reason. “Well, if she was going to reject you, why wouldn’t she just do it when you use your pickup lines on her?”

Ymir, predictably, immediately rejected reason. “Because then I could play it off as a joke.” She glowered at him like he was a piece of gum she found on the bottom of her desk. He just rolled his eyes and went back to stacking chairs. “I could say I was practicing for the person I’m actually going to confess to.”

Reiner nodded slowly. “Fine, do that. See how it plays out.”

“Reiner!”

“What, Bertholdt? If she wants to she will, and we can’t stop her. Might as well enjoy it.”

“My love life isn’t a romantic comedy,” complained Ymir. “If anything, it’s a tragedy.”

Bertholdt furrowed his brow. “The more she denies it, the more I want to see it.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll show you, dumbasses! I’ll be the only one out of all of us with a girlfriend by the time this ends.” She stalked out of the room, highly confident but questionably competent.

Reiner banged his head twice into the seniors’ mural behind him. “Historia’s got such a low opinion of herself, she’ll probably rationalise whatever Ymir does by thinking she’s after one of us.”

“What? But she knows she’s gay.”

“Don’t underestimate the power of low self-confidence,” he reminded him.

“Why would _I,_ ” Bertholdt chuckled guiltily.

Reiner held out his arms, much less awkward than the first time they’d hugged each other. “Come here, you.”

~~~

Ymir found Historia sitting by herself, her back to the brick wall of the schoolyard. “Oi, Historia, I thought only elementary schoolers actually like to be in playgrounds.”

Undeterred by the vaguely insulting words, she waved Ymir over. “That’s the reason. If no one else likes it here, there’s privacy, right?”

“Right, mhm.” She watched Historia very calmly chew on her ham sandwich, wondering how she would find context for her jokes, when she spotted a tree. Perfect. “Hey, Historia.”

“Hmm?”

She leaned against the tree and tilted her chin down, trying to mimic Reiner’s casual wall-leaning elegance. This felt ridiculous and undignified, but if Reiner could do it, Ymir definitely could as well. “Are you a tree? ’Cause I pine for you.”

Historia stared back at her with completely blank eyes. “What?”

“I said, ‘are you a tree? because — ’”

“No, I’m not a tree, Ymir. What kind of question is that?”

 _That — ! Is she doing this on purpose?_ She stared into Historia’s large blue eyes, finding nothing but innocence staring back. “Well, uh…” she discreetly scanned the words she’d scribbled on her forearm in marker. “Your eyes are like bright, limpid pools.”

“Really? Thank you. You know, everyone always tells me it’s weird to hang around someone as surly as you, but they just don’t seem to understand that besides from being unpleasant you can also…”

Ymir zoned out. This was impossible, this couldn’t be right. Reiner? Bertholdt? Actually being correct about Historia’s reaction when she, Ymir, Historia’s disgracefully in love, hopelessly pining best friend wasn’t? Dear god, it couldn’t be. “Historia,” she interrupted.

“Hmm?”

She stalked over, trying to do the sexy tie-loosening thing Reiner had taught her earlier (her sore fingers were just another obstacle to be forgiven in the pursuit of love), and promptly tripped over her feet. Shit, that was so unsexy.

“Oh god, Ymir. Are you okay?” Historia helped her up, and Ymir sprang to full height at the small smile mixed with concern on her face. Being five-seven _was_ sexy, that she knew.

“Yup! Yeah.” She brushed herself off sheepishly, then brightened when she saw the messy ink all over her arm. Oh, right, seduction. “I guess my shoelaces weren’t tied, because I’m falling for you.”

Historia looked up, straight into her eyes, and Ymir stared back in breathless anticipation. It was now or never. This was her confession, and now all she could do was wait for repentance or rejection.

“Well?” she managed.

“Is it Reiner or Bertholdt?” asked Historia.

 _What. The. Fuck._ “I — I…what? No! Neither! _What_? Historia — ”

“Actually, Ymir, sorry, but I have to go. I’ve got a meeting with Mr. Smith about the, uh, the essay due tomorrow.”

“It’s not them!” But her fingers could only pass through a lock of blonde hair before Historia was pushing past her and disappearing into the building again. She stared forlornly at the crowd of students conglomerating at the entrance. “I said I was falling for _you_ , Historia…”

~~~

Ymir found herself once again pacing inside the school building, still shamefully single and girlfriendless. The only difference was that her group was four now instead of three, with the addition of Annie. This change also drastically increased the number of brain cells to be passed around.

Earlier, she had dragged them to an obscure offshoot of the hallway in order to avoid making a scene. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Bertholdt opening his mouth. “I don’t want to hear it,” she warned.

“You need to learn from your mistakes to grow as a human being,” said Reiner disapprovingly. He carefully swiped his backpack out of her path just as her foot nearly came stomping down on it.

“What is this, therapy?”

The three of them exchanged a glance behind her back.

“Okay, so the pickup lines didn’t work. And I slaved over those for hours! Some of them were so good, look, ‘are your eyes the abyss? Because I keep staring into them.’ Who wouldn’t fall for that, huh? I’d fuck anyone who said the first five words alone.”

“Noted,” said Reiner, voice flat but somewhat soothing, like she was an agitated animal. “Ymir, listen.”

“I will not listen, no.”

“Listen, you fuck.” She frowned at Annie but didn’t interrupt, and Bertholdt stared admiringly at Annie’s back for having tamed the savage. It seemed that their animal/counselling analogy just kept getting better and better. “Just confess. I mean it. Historia is so dense, her mind will make up anything rather than accept that you like her unless you say it clearly.”

Ymir ground her teeth and nearly kicked the wall, but then thought of how infrastructure damage would look on her college application and stopped. “But if I just confess, she could reject me.”

“And?”

“ _And_ if she were to reject me, I would simply die.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “This is hopeless.”

“See what we meant?” agreed Reiner.

“Ymir, come on. Just think about it. Please,” added Bertholdt, who would have to live to at least 28 years of age to graduate med school and was not too keen on dying before then.

She tugged at her hair and sighed, defeated. “Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I’ll skin you all alive and then myself.”

“You can try.”

“I will, Annie.” Ymir stood with renewed determination, having already failed twice and gotten used to the pattern. “I’m going to get the girl.” With that, she marched out, just in time for the bell to ring and send her back to math class. _Fuck._

She was going to have to get so many perfect scores on her homework to recover from that C.

~~~

It took three whole periods for her to steel her nerve, which was good, because those were all her remaining afternoon classes. She could do this. If Ymir could tackle and wrestle one of the track girls down and steal her shirt as a prize, she could say those three measly words. “I, like, you.” Easy. Easy! Just like that.

But then she had actually managed to corner Historia in the school library’s history section, and now that she was really there in the moment, it didn’t seem so easy anymore.

“Hey, Ymir.” Historia linked her arm through hers, and Ymir’s mouth went dry. “What a coincidence. You usually only go to the library on Fridays, right?”

“Yeah. Which is actually what I wanted to talk to you about today, because…” She trailed off and couldn’t seem to keep going. “Because I have something really important to tell you.”

She nodded hesitantly. “Okay?”

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

Historia frowned and clutched her book tighter. “Sorry, but I really can’t. I don’t have time right now, so…”

Ymir blinked. That made no sense. Historia was a people-pleaser, which meant she was reluctant to deny others’ requests. (She had played with the idea of framing her confession as a request before.) “But…Historia, I just need two minutes.”

“I’m sorry.”

“One minute. Thirty seconds?”

“We can talk in a bit,” she said gently. “We’re going to go home together anyway.”

“Wait!” Her cheeks grew warm, but of course she didn’t blush because blushing was a dumb thing that Ymir never did. Historia watched in amazement like she couldn’t believe her eyes. 

“Are you okay? Do you have a fever?”

“No!” She shook her head (feverishly).

“Then…?”

“I like you,” she declared before she could lose her nerve, inwardly squirming in discomfort. Her eyes lowered to meet Historia’s, searching for the answer before it came. Anticipation forced her to wait with bated breath.

Historia smiled back gaily. “I like you too. Which are you taking today, the subway or the bus?”

“Bus,” went her mouth, and then her mind blanked and a torrent of excuses fell from her lips. “Ahahaha, yeah, I need to return the kazoo I borrowed from Mr. Ackermann. Will you be done in ten minutes? See you then.” And then, as if possessed, she ran off to go lick her wounds and redo her battle plan, shame coursing through her bloodstream.

~~~

“She thought I meant I liked her as a friend,” Ymir moaned from her spot on the floor, crushed. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Well, there was that time you laid my cat in a pool of ketchup and told me she was dead, and that time you graffitied my garage door…”

“Shut up, Bertholdt. And it wasn’t graffiti, it was a birthday present. Is it my fault you don’t appreciate art?” He mumbled something unintelligible, and she wriggled over in front of the three of them. “So, any ideas?”

Reiner rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think I know.”

“Spit it out already, then, you dumb rock!”

“That’s rude,” he said. “I think you show affection so awkwardly she thought you were that worked up over having to admit _platonic_ feelings, let alone romantic.”

“That’s ridiculous,” scoffed Ymir, just as Bertholdt said, “That’s exactly right.”

“What? Bertholdt!”

He tucked his face behind his arms and glared at the floor. “You gave me a dead bee once and told me it loves me in your place.”

“I figured you would appreciate the affections of a dead bee more than mine.”

“Did I say you were wrong?”

She gasped and flailed her arms in mock theatrics. “Did you drink some spoiled milk today? When did you grow a second testicle?”

“Stop deflecting,” interrupted Annie. “Reiner is right in his observation. I would also assume you were just constipated over having to admit to caring about people.”

“Not people,” Ymir reminded. “Just Historia.” (Reiner’s brow furrowed at how she had bizarrely implied that Historia was not a person, but brushed it off as Ymir being so enchanted with her that she began to see her as some kind of god.)

Annie stood. “Exactly my point. You’d never say you care about anyone willingly.”

“I just did!”

“Okay. Then in ten minutes, when you meet her, look her in the eyes and say, ‘Historia, I like you. Romantically. Please go out with me.’”

Ymir made a face. “It’s not like any of you have ever gotten a girlfriend,” she said suspiciously. “Why should I trust anything you say?”

Annie opened her mouth, but Reiner shot her a look and she closed it immediately. She sighed and looked up, somehow able to tower over everyone even at her measly five foot nothing. “Would you rather keep acting on your own, a strategy prone to failure, or to us, your unbiased sources who give relatively good advice?” Ymir huffed but didn’t reply, which she took as acquiescence. “Exactly. Now go get a girlfriend, if you really think you’re good enough with that skinny ass.”

“Bitch, are _you_ really going to say that to me?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Why’d you do that?” Bertholdt asked as Ymir shot to her feet and sprinted off, a newfound spark lit in her eyes.

Annie dusted herself off disinterestedly. “The only way she motivates people is by insulting them, so I figured it must also be vice versa.”

“Your brain is so large,” said Reiner in admiration.

“And?”

He cleared his throat. “Your ass is not skinny, unless you want it to be.”

“Thank you.”

~~~

Cupid was watching, so she couldn’t disappoint.

Correction: Whether or not Ymir’s debatable ass could get her a girlfriend was on the line, so she couldn’t disappoint.

She rushed into the library, finding Historia waiting with a full backpack where they had spoken earlier. “Hey, Ymir!”

“Historia,” she said gleefully, glad that Historia seemed to have gotten over thinking she was thirsting for Reiner or Bertholdt. “You ready?”

“Yeah.” 

They walked out of the library together only slightly awkwardly, got through the main lobby only slightly more awkwardly, and made it out of the building even more awkwardly. “So, we’re taking the bus today.”

“Yeah.”

 _Quick wit my ass,_ Ymir thought of the online personality test she’d taken a week ago, clenching her fist. _I can’t think of a single thing to say that isn’t my confession._ It was hovering over her like a raincloud, counting down the average time it took to get home (Historia got dropped off first, but the bus wasn’t here yet). “Well, it’s Valentine’s Day. Anyone confess to you?” _Do you remember me confessing? Please, please, please —_

“I’m not the kind of person people confess to,” Historia replied with a (perfect)ly straight face that was definitely of the kind people confessed to. “What about you, Ymir?”

Her voice seemed as ramrod-straight as her back, and Ymir answered immediately. “No.”

“Are you planning on confessing to anyone, then?”

“What’s with this atmosphere, huh?” she complained, slinging an arm over Historia’s tense shoulders. They tightened up even more, and she hastily drew back, not wanting her to get stiff later.

“I’m just curious.” Finally she turned to smile up at Ymir, but it looked more artificial than usual. Percentage wise, Ymir would give it a 60% in fakeness, and her scale worked even better on Historia. “You seemed like you wanted to earlier.”

Oh. Oh god.

_It’s happening._

She said a quick prayer and sucked in her breath. Most of the other students had already gone, giving them privacy, and she drew on the fact that even if she was rejected, at least it wouldn’t be public humiliation. Like she was reciting some ancient text for a social studies project, Ymir looked her in the (prettiest azure) eyes and announced, “Historia, I like you. Romantically. Please go out with me!”

Like last time, Historia said nothing for a full ten seconds. Then, tentatively, “You like…me?”

“No, I’m hopelessly in love with your twin sister who is also named Historia, obviously.” She winced. Fuck, usually the shitty bits only came out around Reiner and Bertholdt. “I mean, yes, I do. Very much. For a long time. Please date me.”

“…Okay.”

Ymir blinked. And blinked again. And then screamed.

“What are you doing? Ymir!”

Her mouth snapped shut. “Holy shit.”

“Did you think I was going to reject you?” Now she looked amused, her (pretty pink) lips quirking upwards.

“Holy shit.”

“You big dummy.” Historia grabbed both sides of Ymir’s still shell-shocked face and dragged her down, planting a chaste kiss on her lips. A small blush spread across the bridge of Ymir’s nose, and she watched in disbelief. “Oh my god. Are you actually — ”

“Shut up!”

She laughed and linked their fingers together. “You’re so stupid.”

Ymir snapped back to attention and pointed a finger right in her face. “You thought I had the hots for Reiner or Bertholdt!”

“And you thought I didn’t have the hots for you, so we’re even.”

The bus pulled up before she could reply, and then she was boarding. With Historia. Holding her hand.

(With her girlfriend. Holding her girlfriend’s hand.)

This was so worth nearly flunking math first semester.


End file.
